“We have now. We have this moment, right now. Will you live it with me?”

Synopsis

From the book blurb:

Hidden away all twenty-five years of her life in Moonstone Wood, Seraphine Dupont is rudely awakened to the life she was born to live: a princess betrothed to a loathsome prince, destined for a curse she has been protected from since birth.

But on her wedding day, the cunning Ravenfae Prince Korven interrupts the ceremony, delivering her curse and unknowingly plunging her into her darkest fate. When a fae Goddess intervenes, pulling Seraphine’s spirit from her body, she and Korven are tasked with finding the one who can love her most before the ten days are up and they both are dead.

As the days tick by and they search for someone to deliver the legendary kiss, Seraphine’s spirit slowly solidifies, igniting the unbearable tension between her and Korven. Every touch and lingering glance draws them closer to surrendering to their deepest desire–each other and a future together that can never be.

Affiliate Disclaimer

I purchased the eBook edition through Kindle, and I’ll be linking to that page where you can also explore the paperback and hardcover editions. I did check Tompkin’s website and bookshop.org before establishing “the link”!

As of the time of this review posting, Curse & Spindle is only available via Amazon. (If I’m mistaken, someone please let me know!)

Links will include my affiliate tag and may earn me a small commission, at no extra cost to you.

Narrative

Written in First Person/Past Tense, the narrative prose gives us focused views through the eyes of both Korven and Seraphine in alternating chapters.

I will say I was super relieved at the Past Tense aspect, because I’m personally kind of “over” the all-too-common First Person/Present Tense that forces me into shoes I really don’t want to be in. With past tense, it feels more like the characters are sharing with me what happened over a drink or two (or…more…), and I always feel more at ease when diving into stories that way.

Time Period/Setting

This is set in a medieval-esque storybook fantasy realm, kicking off right as Seraphine is about to marry a rather insufferable man. I mean, right as she’s about to marry him.

It’s also not long after a rather devastating series of events occurred among the fae folk—which I’m not going to delve into because #spoilers, but also because I get the feeling that I’ve only touched the tip of the iceberg in this book where that subplot is concerned. While Curse & Spindle is a standalone novella, it is also part of a series of standalone fairytale retellings which all seem to share one unique (meaning: original and not part of the retellings) subplot among the fae involved with the main stories.

Theme

What really struck me in the softer moments of the story was how the concept of “being seen” really pulls through with Seraphine and Korven.

Both of them share a rather poignant reality of existence: he’s part of a people, a species rather, that a lot of people don’t want to acknowledge or when they do, it’s with fear and/or apprehension. She’s part of an aristocracy and royal hierarchy where she, too, is only acknowledged when she’s needed for an agenda (such as marriage, titles, land, etc.). Otherwise, she’s unseen and unheard and definitely not recognized as anything more than a means to an end.

So when the adventure kicks off with an interesting curse—one that really underlines the whole concept of her being “invisible” to the world around her—it not only proves a point to the reader, but forces both our protagonists to do the one thing they’ve been avoiding for literal years:

Actually look at each other.

Symbolism

I touched on a lot of this already, but there is more woven throughout the story that I found made it especially wonderful beyond the quick “roll in the hay” I honestly sort of expected going in.

Listen. I know sex sells. I just think we sell it a little too much sometimes, and that can skew expectations away from the reality, y’know what I mean?

Curse & Spindle has a lot more heart and thought-provoking notions than just “kiss the maiden and break the curse”. Concepts of loving yourself despite the external noise and criticisms, learning to deal with grief and loss even if it’s not your own (because tragedy can often make a rippling effect), and working (by talking) through mutual hurts and supposed betrayals are all worked into this magical storyscape in lighthearted ways that eventually, gradually, deepen into something that might just make you need a moment to process.

Genre

This is definitely a fairytale retelling, but I also feel like it qualifies as almost-original Romantasy in the way the subplot adds an extra layer of depth that made me want to read every other book in the series that’s yet to come out. (Correction: most of them are out. I somehow missed that and will now be running to that digital shopping cart!)

It also made me quickly scramble for the previous books because of how things were worded! I may have broken out into a slightly cold sweat/panic wondering if I missed something? Did I grab the wrong book out of sequence?

No. This is the first book in the series; it’s just masterfully crafted in a way that will probably turn you into an addict out of an aching need to know more.

Comparisons

I confess to being woefully bereft of sufficient comparisons. I definitely need to read more fairytale retellings so I can have a backlog of “if you love that, then you’ll love this”!

But I will mention that the vibes of the story kept bringing to mind some of my more favorite movies and television series:

• The Princess Bride

• The 10th Kingdom

• Once Upon a Time

• Maleficent (okay this one is a bit obvious, but I mean this as in, if you’ve been fan-girling over Diaval and wished he’d get his own story, this book might scratch that exact itch)

My Personal Opinion

I’m skipping over my usual “analysis” section to get right to sharing my personal opinion—mostly because this book is a 174-page novella and a rather lighthearted one at that.

This is what I would call a “palette cleanser” for my usually heavy TBR: it was easy to read in one sitting, thoroughly enjoyable, still full of depth and meaning even while dancing through fae magic and playful tricks…and yes, it had delicious spice right where it made the most sense for there to be.

Without getting gross, which I think is an important thing to note. I’m not wanting to yuck anyone’s yum on this, but for me personally there are times when the prose of a spicy scene feels less tantalizing and more like listening to someone loudly chew their food with their mouth open.

This felt like dessert.

Delicious, sweet-yet-rich, triple-chocolate cheesecake in a warm, sudsy bath kind of dessert.

I’m definitely adding every title in the series to my TBR, and I’ve gone and subscribed to the Author Newsletter so I can know when new books are coming out, maybe get some behind-the-scenes fun, and generally just fangirl every time a new edition drops in my inbox.

Also, can we talk about the gorgeous cover? They’re all like that!

Paperbacks incoming to my bookshelves, ASAP.

About the Author

From the author’s bio:

Chelsey Ann Tompkins writes romance in a fantasy setting with some good twists and spice along the way. A Conduit of Light Series is her first series and A Realm of Revelry is her ongoing series of standalone spicy fairytales. She lives near Seattle with her family where she loves to read on the rainiest days with a good cup of coffee.

You can follow her on Instagram and subscribe to her newsletter on her website:

https://chelseyanntompkins.com/

If you’re looking for fun, fantasy, and a romance that makes your toes kick…

This might tickle that sweet spot in the best way.

I’m going to be eagerly awaiting the updates on new book releases from Tompkins, adding each one to my iPad, and eventually get the fancy hardcovers for my personal library (note to self: build more shelves).

Check out these other titles for your TBR:

Read more

Yes, I know.

I had to. I couldn’t resist.

It’s only the middle of June and in the span of maybe just two weeks, the book world has been rocked by:

• Allie Rose Co. attempting (and failing) to trademark the commonly used phrase, “Hot Girls Read”, after claiming that “no one to [her] knowledge was using it”

• Ivory Chapters LLC attempted to trademark the other commonly used phrase, “Blind Date With A Book”, but that was almost immediately challenged by the legal team of the American Booksellers Association and is pending review (last I checked a couple of days ago)

• Alexander Larman, an author of historical biographies and U.S. Books Editor for The Spectator, published a disparaging article against the Romantasy genre, “It’s time to turn the page on ‘romantasy’”, and filled his argument with…very, very inaccurate assumptions about the genre

While I was spinning Ye Olde Rolodex on subjects to write about, I realized there’s an overlapping topic woven throughout everything going on right now, and it’s this:

We need to talk about “ownership”

I woke up one morning with Journalist Nikki at the helm of my brain.

For some quick background context: I’ve been writing since I was 11 years old, and became the youngest journalist/editor on the high school newspaper at 14, which quickly turned into a periodic publishing feature in the city newspaper by 15. I underwent formal training for all of it, and even though fiction is my wheelhouse, sometimes the old itch to rush into a crowd of protesters or confront a rising politician with hard questions—notepad and pen in hand—resurfaces and I just…I gotta do it.

Which is why I chugged a mug of iced coffee, sat down at my laptop, and sent a list of questions to Allie Rose Co. to get some insights and clarification regarding the trademark issue. And then, after some further thinking (and massive support on Threads), emailed her attorney and the U.S. Trademark Office for general insights as to how it’s possible to claim ownership of a common phrase.

It’s not. I don’t need a response (and I didn’t get any, so there’s that…) to know that the answer to “how is this possible” is “it’s not”. A quick trip to the patent office’s informational website confirmed the public’s suspicions.

Something else surfaced during the research, however. Even though I quickly determined there wouldn’t be a forthcoming deep-dive exposé into the process behind the trademarking, my gut felt like something else was going on underneath the soil.

I posted a poll on Threads and continued talking to readers, authors, and small businesses in the book community to see what, out of all of it, really bothered people the absolute most.

The answer?

Ownership.

The fact that someone, anyone, claimed ownership over something that did not belong to them, was not created by them, and had only recently been discovered by them—and it was allowed because no one in a position of authority did any actual fact-checking.

I wanted to go on a rant about how this is ironic considering the same community loves to superimpose what’s allowed/not allowed by authors based on skin color, but that’s a whole other article for another time.

Although I am very irritated to have to mention that despite my adamant refusal to make anything a “race/ethnicity issue”, there’s no ignoring or denying a very clear pattern in the demographic of who keeps trying to claim ownership over public language. In fact, if I had the extra time, I could probably come up with a very interesting research paper on the almost predictable connection between social media influencer culture, trademark attorneys, and American-white women who adhere to a very specific “look” and “lifestyle ideal” that led to this whole mess.

(Before you leap to broad conclusions about trademark attorneys on social media, I am very happy to inform you that the vast majority of the search results produced BIPOC women who are sharing legal facts and insights!)

I also realized, as I typed that paragraph above, that this is exactly what got people so peeved about that Op-Ed article.

What is “up” with people claiming authority—which can be a type of ownership—over things that don’t actually belong to them?

The average romantasy novel revolves around the usual contrivances of every romance novel ever written, but with a fantastical spin. Virtuous maidens, heaving of bosom and pure of heart, fall in forbidden love with Heathcliffian figures, who are often minotaurs, vampires or werewolves. There are invariably goblins and dragons, who can also engage in sexual congress… (https://spectator.com/article/time-to-fall-out-of-love-with-romantasy)

I’m not saying anyone can “own” a genre.

What I am saying is that if someone—an expert, no less—is going to levy an opinion on a genre of literature outside their own scope of experience, they should be conducting considerable more research than this guy. If he’d written an article about something problematic in historical biographies, or opinion-focused journalism, or anything within what he’s expressed in his professional profile(s), I’d take that far more seriously and trust it because that’s his wheelhouse.

And heck, if he’d read a substantial amount of contemporary Romantasy novels before publishing that article—and still held the same opinion—I think a lot of us wouldn’t be as put off by his statements. Mainly because they’d be far more accurate to the actual genre content and not constantly compared to fantasy novels that are not, and never will be, categorized as Romantasy.

“Hold on, Nikki. Why did you say ‘contemporary’ Romantasy?”

Because that right there?

That’s the issue with the genre as a whole: it isn’t new.

It’s been around for…millennia, honestly.

For a bit of framework to this, I did a quick Google search (which seems to not be happening as much lately? Is it just me?) to grab a publishing industry agreed-upon definition of the actual term, “romantasy” and found this summary from Penguin House:

Romantasy is a fusion of romance and fantasy, where both elements are essential to the story. In these books, the worldbuilding and the relationship develop side by side, each shaping the other as the plot unfolds.

Rather than treating romance as a subplot, romantasy places it at the centre. The emotional stakes are just as important as the external conflict, whether that be a war between kingdoms, a magical threat or a struggle for power. (https://www.penguin.co.uk/discover/articles/romantasy-guide)

{Side Note: That’s actually a great page to bookmark for anyone who wants to learn more about the genre!}

So, to keep this article short enough to (hopefully) fit inside an email and at least keep your attention, here is a list of literary works that have been Romantasy since before Gutenberg invented the printing press:

• A Midsummer Night’s Dream

• Almost every Arthurian tale pre-dating Le Morte D’Arthur, which has been confirmed to be “fan fiction” of the original stories passed down from the 9th Century

• Greco-Roman myths such as Eros & Psyche (the predecessor to Beauty & the Beast)

And then there’s the classics that became popular with the printing press, primarily the stories gathered and compiled by the Brothers Grimm. I really want to slide Hans Christian Anderson into here, given the later adaptation of The Little Mermaid by Disney, but the original versions of his work are more accurately classified as Tragedy than Romantasy.

I know there’s going to be people dissenting this article with “well, actually…” and I’m gonna stop ya right there: I know that the term “romantasy” is a new word to enter the lexicon of the English language and publishing world. The establishment of the word’s definition is new. The category in bookstores both online and brick-and-mortar is new, the marketing push is new, et cetera.

But what it is? The actual existence of the material?

It’s been around since long before any of us were born, and it’s going to continue to be around long after. There’s no “turning the page” on something that has been woven into the tapestries of cultures around the world in both oral tradition and printed editions, and it’s awfully presumptuous to declare a need to end it.

Because…why?

A woman-owned bookstore was painted pink?

Words are easy to craft, easy to utilize, and easy to immortalize. With the right strategy, they’re also fairly easy to monetize.

So it wasn’t as surprising to read a “lawyerfluencer” (I made that up; I might trademark it) explain in a post that owning the phrase, name, etc. that your brand uses all the time is “the best way to secure your brand”. Monetize those words, Boss Babe! “Scale your business” and make people pay for the privilege to utter your catch phrase/name/logo!

When I read Larman’s bio, it took only one paragraph to see the concern tilling the soil of that whole viewpoint: he writes in a genre readers don’t exactly camp outside bookstores to acquire. Money isn’t being thrown at Historical Biographies the way it’s practically raining down upon Romantasy novels.

It’s easy enough to successfully pitch a manuscript of that caliber to a publisher (from what I’ve been told), but try getting the general public excited about Lord Byron’s abusive philandering in the same way that makes them stampede brick-and-mortar bookstores for the newest installment of The Empyrian series. It makes sense that a subconscious fear of being irrelevant—and potentially dropped by the publisher if sales don’t remain consistent—could lead to a rather uninformed, heavily biased opinion against the attention-stealing genre.

The lesson to learn through all this “bookish drama”: you own your words, and no one else can tell you to stop using them.

I write Romantasy because I’ve experienced things in my life that no one believed ever happened. My voice was silenced. My abuse was minimized. My trauma was scoffed at and even questioned as “just a nightmare” as if the scars inside my body came from some Dream Sequence like Dorothy at the end of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.

But I refused to let it all fester in the pit people tried to bury it in. I figured, since it’s so unbelievable…why not write it all out as fantasy fiction?

The romance comes into play as a simultaneous proclamation to someone I really, really hope has been reading and following along—and as a message to an alarmingly large amount of people who think having a Villain Origin Story gives someone the right to be a villain.

At the end of it all, is personal vindication and self-imposed vigilante justice worth losing the one(s) you love?

Or can you love someone so much, it overrides every ounce of pain and suffering, makes you turn away from vengeance, and actually ripples a series of changes throughout the world…even if there’s a chance you’ll ever see them again?

These are the questions I personally think no other genre fully explores as deeply as Romantasy.

And whether you’re “hot” or not, it’s definitely worth the read.

While doomscrolling on Threads for some author/bookish hot topics, I came across a great question asked by someone in the market for a new laptop:

“Is productivity better from paying $2000 for a Mac instead of a $500 PC?”

(Or something super close to that; I’m paraphrasing.)

In the comments of that thread popped up another brilliant question that had me writing 5-6 back-to-back responses excitedly explaining my answer to it: “How are MacBooks beneficial for author productivity?”

I promised that commenter, after realizing just how much info I was trying to cram into Threads’ tight word count, that I would write an article on Substack to explain my newly developed setup so anyone with a Mac/MacBook—and anyone currently shopping options and debating between Apple tech and the PC route—can get a deep-dive look into how and why I’ve turned away from external add-ons and made my MacBook Air a “publishing powerhouse”.

Affiliate Notice

Some of the software programs I recommend below include affiliate links that will monetarily support me—a fellow indie author—should you decide to go ahead and give them a try.

I do want to make it super clear, here: I NEVER recommend something I haven’t already tried myself and fallen in love with!

Yes, over time I might change my mind (more on that later, promise) but I’m a stickler for transparency when it comes to product and service recommendations. If I feel iffy about it, I won’t mention it until it stops being “iffy” and is either fully loved or hated.

(Also: links to book promos—like freebies and sales—are at the very bottom, so make sure to check those out!)

A Note For PC Users—And Why I Switched To Apple

I will mention anywhere a tool can be used on PC computers.

But if it’s something exclusive to Apple, I will try to make recommendations for popular PC options so you can check them out. I haven’t tried some of those, so proceed with caution (i.e. Atticus if you can’t use Vellum).

Many years ago, pretty much from my sophomore year in college (2008) all the way up to 2019-ish, I was an avid PC user. HP and Toshiba were my two favorite laptop developers, and I do see the value in being able to fully customize the hardware if you’re into that!

For me, though, I needed a type of streamlined function and visual aesthetic, or “sensory smoothness” as I like to call it, which Apple seemed to give that I wasn’t finding in the PC world.

Then there was the price tag reality, which I think everyone needs to pay attention to a lot closer than we usually do: most PC laptops are designed to need replacement roughly every 2-4 years (during “my time”, the average lifespan of a Toshiba was 2 years, but I hear there’s been improvements). Meanwhile, a $2000 MacBook is designed to last a minimum of 10 years and can push up to 20 with regular software updates and basic care. So even though the sticker price seems dramatically different up front, I’d still be spending the same amount of money and going through laptops—and creating waste—one after the other by sticking to a PC.

At the time of writing this, my cybersecurity expert stepfather is still using his MacBook Pro from back when they first came out. He’s found no need to replace it.

My first immediate discovery when I powered up my refurbished MacBook (bought on Amazon) after years of PC life was how much more most of the software I’d been using suddenly featured—from clearer visuals to smoother interface, to editing functionality that wasn’t in a lot of the “for PC” downloads.

When I was finally able to afford an official upgrade into a new, fresh-off-the-Apple-store-on-Michigan-Avenue MacBook (a dream fulfilled!), my user experience only got better and better. I was able to set up my iPhone, new iPad, and Apple Watch to integrate everything I needed with each other and it didn’t require additional downloads to make them sync.

Did that stop me from constantly searching for new software to download?

Unfortunately, no.

I grew so accustomed to needing everything from external sources that I never thought to actually look at what my MacBook already possessed. I did see the icons for apps that meant nothing to me, and I figured they were probably just some cheap offshoot of the “real goods”.

Nikki, you fool.

You silly, silly fool.

Here’s what I was using as my “author tech stack” from 2020 to roughly 3 months ago:

Hive (Project Management)

After diving into freelance work during 2020, I quickly saw the immense value in utilizing some form of project management software in order to get things done. It’s also something I don’t see too many authors doing, or at least if they are, no one is talking about it. Which surprises me, given just how much dang work we have to do in order to write, publish, and market our work!

Hive is something I fell in love with for its clean interface and ability to transform DMs and emails into projects and tasks. It also had (emphasis on past tense) a robust free plan, only charging should you need to go from an individual use to team use. After trying out several other PMS platforms like Asana, Monday.com, ClickUp, and a few others I’m sure I’m forgetting, I found my heart constantly pulling toward Hive.

And I should note here: I’m “neurospicy”. My productivity, concentration, and overall adherence to a system is GREATLY impacted by color schemes! So while wonderful in function, Asana and Monday.com both made my brain cringe and not want to use. Hive, however, isn’t as reliant on bright colors all over the place—there’s a much broader use of white space and it made the deeper, richer tones feel more like interesting accents than stimulation.

Microsoft Office Suite

Full transparency: I’ve never liked Microsoft Office. Not only has it always required immense monetary sacrifice to use (any ancient ones like me remember the $600 price tag on those CD boxes at Walmart?), there’s always new features and plug-ins added long before I got the original settings figured out.

Plus, I hate the color scheme. I know, it sounds silly, but it just…it’s a turnoff for me. I can’t explain it. Just roll with it for my sake.

But I downloaded it because it’s the software suite book editors swear by, and I was (for many years) editing books, articles, research papers, and other publications that the writers were used to creating on Word. It made sense to, in my own mind, “play along”.

Honestly? I barely ever touched it.

Google Office Suite

This is still my top recommendation for anyone who wants and needs a FREE office suite for writing, charting, and storing across multiple devices. In fact, as an editor I preferred using this so authors could see in real-time where I was, we could converse about notes right there in the margins, and eventually Google introduced a chat feature that made it even easier to communicate within projects.

Adobe Creative Cloud

When I owned and operated an editorial company, I truly wanted to do things right. Getting Adobe’s Creative Cloud made sense for formatting, cover design, and all the things professionally curated in a traditional publishing house. For me, it was a no-brainer.

That price tag, though? Yeesh.

Notion

This is something that was introduced to me by my business mentor back when I left trad work and went into freelance life—and it’s taken me a while to finally figure out most of the features which make it so unique from other platforms.

But it’s insanely useful, and it’s available on browser as well as a direct download to all laptops (as far as I’m aware), so it’s one of those things that made sense to utilize. Plus, it’s got a free tier that gives me everything I’d need it for—and its generative AI option that’s part of the Paid Plan Promos honestly isn’t as great as it wants you to think.

Yes, I tried it. I’m a curious person. And I used to be terrible at building my own spreadsheets, so I figured if I told it what I wanted set up, I’d literally get one “done for me”.

I was not impressed.

Zoom

I had a podcast channel for a short while, and I have plans to make a new one inside my Substack website (eventually). For the longest time, I was using Zoom to record my episodes which I’d then edit with Audacity.

I don’t have much to say regarding either, other than Zoom’s limitations kept getting worse and worse. Methinks someone thought to capitalize on the widespread need for that kind of software, and I went from using it religiously to barely touching it unless someone else invites me into a meeting.

Here’s what I discovered I already had THIS WHOLE TIME—built in, for free, on my MacBook Air:

Notes

I’ve been using Notes since 2019 as a way to jot down quick reminders and sync up with coworkers for shopping lists, promo ideas, etc. I even let my nieces and nephews doodle on my phone and saved each image in a special folder so I’d never lose their artwork.

But not until super recently, and I mean only a few months ago, did I ever actually sit down and really look at what Notes can do.

It’s…essentially Notion.

Now before you go running with that observation, let me clarify: Notion does a lot of things in the platform that Notes does not (my mind is blanking, but I’ve definitely tested a few functions that didn’t work out like I’d expected).

However, if you have a Mac/MacBook and you’ve been using Notion to write down ideas, lists, make basic charts (not spreadsheets; that’s different), and otherwise organize your operations into a sidebar menu version of a 3-ring binder?

This is what Notes can do for you. Natively, for free, and synced across all your devices if you use (or are planning to use) the Apple suite of hardware products. I’m getting into the habit of making pages in Notes for everything I’m usually asked to grab for various platforms and opportunities, like social media URLs and different versions of my Author Bio. The more folders I make for different topics/needs, the more I stack them inside each other for cleaner searching on the sidebar.

And let me tell you: being able to “pin” the most important Notes to the top of the app is such a lifesaver for those times when my brain goes into Panic Mode and cannot be bothered skimming through dozens of folders and files!

Reminders

This is such a blessed, blessed app inside the Apple software suite.

I use it for everything. Publishing deadlines, Substack scheduling (I need to start working on Substack Notes scheduling; more on that in a different article, probably), and even gardening! In one day I’ll get a ping on my laptop/tablet/phone reminding me to draft and schedule an article, send out an ARC newsletter, work on a chapter draft, and check the cucumbers for sprouting.

You can get super thorough on the details, too: much like official project management software such as Asana and Hive, Reminders lets you determine the priority, urgency, and even task dependencies so you can take control of your To Do list without missing a beat.

(As I’m writing this, I just checked my phone and there’s a Reminder pinging for me to write this article and get it posted! Love that!)

One super valuable thing to note: Reminders works both ways in terms of calendar functionality and notation. When you create a Reminder in the app itself with a set date, it automatically adds to iCalendar so you’ll see it there when you open up that application. If you are inside iCalendar, you can click on a date and choose to make the notation a Reminder, which will then automatically add the log to that application.

iCalendar

I’ve already started touching on this a bit, but I’ll go deeper here: this is a fantastic “replacement” for Google Calendar if you’re needing to keep things separate between career functions (i.e. I have my bookstore calendar on Google Calendar; everything author-focused is on iCalendar so my brain doesn’t get the two confused).

You can set Reminders, schedules, block appointment times, color code everything to its category (such as Publishing Deadlines, social media posts, group promos, etc.), and even share certain calendars with your PA/VA for better coordination.

I’m also able to sync it directly to Google Calendar, which is useful for the rare occasion when an external program or cohort only offers certain scheduling functionality with Google but not iCal (it can happen). And when I do need bookstore-related reminders woven into my author records (such as local festivals), I can toggle that integration on or off.

Freeform

Listen.

Listen.

I had no idea what this new app was, and no one told me. Not at the Apple Store, not in any advertisements in my feeds, nowhere and nothing. I just saw a squiggle on some shapes and the name kept making me think of that not-cable-channel on the Roku menu.

Let me tell you.

This app is amazing.

You know how there are so many different ways to map out plot points and project snapshots and almost just as many software programs pitching those exact features as a way to jot down and organize your thoughts like sticky notes you can then click and drag anywhere you want?

That’s this. Right here. For FREE.

I outlined the article you are currently reading in Freeform. In fact, I’ve made a duplicate “template” so future articles can embody the same structure (intro, disclaimers, main points, wrap-up, conclusion, etc.) while giving me the creative freedom to quickly rearrange and color-code ideas as they come up.

I use this in a second window next to Scrivener so every time I think of a new name for a Great House/Minor House in Song of the Sidhe (there’s 300; it’s a lot), I can slap that sticky note on the chart for later. And then later comes, I color-code and click-drag the House Whatever to the right category, add the symbols that notate if we’re meant to hate them or mourn them or cheer them on, and set then it aside.

Made a mistake? Rearrange the sticky notes. Shift the colors. Add more symbols (I call them “stickers” in my head).

This also works great for timelines, if you’re someone like me who is a bit loosey-goosey when it comes to chronological details. I’d be the worst History of the Otherworld professor because honestly, most of it is “roughly around the same time that one guy went nuts and declared war on the squirrels” instead of “Year 1000 BCE” or whatever.

Pages

Think “Microsoft Word”, but prettier. Less complicated. Less clunky.

That’s it. That’s Pages.

A lot of people (myself included) automatically assumed it was only meant to design small business flyers, self-published books, and maybe the odd magazine. While yes, it can definitely do that, I was surprised to discover it’s actually a robust word processor just like Microsoft Word and Google Docs.

I’m drafting this exact article on Pages as I type. I actually draft most of my Substack articles on Pages, as it doesn’t rely on internet connectivity and I live in an area where a simple thunderstorm can wreck havoc on the WiFi. I’ve created a book review templates to use whenever I’m ready to post about what I just finished, and I’m in love with how stinkin’ easy it is to format the header/footer, page numbers, and use both to add copyright marks for anything I need to distribute via PDF, like sample chapters to my ARC team!

Something to note: I’ve had quite a few people claim they also use Pages to create and design social media posts, much like how you would use Canva. I don’t doubt this is possible! I’m just personally a Canva addict and after nearly a decade of using it and storing all my design assets on it, I find it difficult to entertain an alternative.

If you’re just starting out on your new Mac/MacBook and can’t afford/don’t want to use external programs like Scrivener or Word, Pages is your hero.

You can absolutely draft your entire manuscript on this app just like you would anywhere else, then export it or even use the built-in formatting tools to get it ready for publishing.

Numbers

I laugh so I don’t cry about how my spreadsheet-hating self is now entirely dependent upon—and addicted to—spreadsheets.

Personally, I hate Excel. I think it has more to do with hating “computer class” in the late 1990s-early 2000s when moving the mouse wrong could mess up the whole project and don’t get me started on calculating the formulas.

I finally, as a grown adult who learned how to “deal with it”, learned the ins and outs of Google Sheets. I definitely think there’s something to the actual design of the software that eases my brain versus anything/everything Microsoft puts out there—which could be a whole other article about neurodivergent sensory needs in a screen-filled world—because I didn’t find the learning curve nearly as stressful. I caught on pretty quick, actually!

Numbers is the next level down from Sheets. I’m going to be honest there. Once you master Sheets, it makes Numbers feel awfully rudimentary at the onset.

However…

Now that I’ve spent more time in Numbers, I’ve discovered that the “hiccup” has less to do with function/features and more to do with learning where everything is located. I’ve noticed that, across all the Apple software suite programs, functions are listed more to the side than across the top (like GSuite and Microsoft Office). Things I thought Numbers couldn’t do are actually there, just tucked away on the righthand side under buttons that keep the toolkit out of the way until you summon it.

I like that. A lot. Minimal screen clutter makes my neurospicy brain so, so happy.

Books

“But I already have Kindle. I’m good.”

Hold your roll, there.

Here’s the #1 thing Books does that Kindle does not: it lets you highlight LARGE chunks of text out of your ebooks to copy/paste into your spreadsheet for your social media marketing needs.

I don’t recommend this for other people’s books unless you’re helping promote a novel and the quote is maybe one sentence. Copyright respect is important.

But for your own books? This app lets you go off in the ways that Kindle might yell at you for even though you’re the author. I love it: I have my highlighter colors assigned to subject (i.e. “spicy”, “worldbuild”, “character bio”, etc.) and a spreadsheet where I drop those quotes for when I’m ready to start designing posts in Canva and need to pull something quick.

Books uses EPUB files, which is also a nice benefit if you do your own formatting. Vellum gives us basic preview for all the eReader devices like Kindle, Nook, and Kobo, but a quick download of the generic EPUB file can be proofed in the Books app on any of your Apple devices.

Stickies

This is a quickie but a goodie: unlike Freeform’s “sticky notes” that have to stay inside that app and on those specific “drawing boards” you create per project, Stickies are free-floating “sticky notes” you can slap up all over your desktop.

I use mine to keep track of special keystrokes I need to remember, such as:

You can choose your fave color(s), choose a fave font, and keep things cute by arranging them around the desktop in patterns or, like I did, to fit among custom desktop illustrations!

GarageBand

Podcasters, I’m looking at you!

I’ll confess to still being more proficient at using Audacity for audio editing, but I’ve been informed that GarageBand can do all that as much as it’s good for recording the original tracks.

I definitely noticed a significant increase in sound quality back when I was running a small podcast and tested Zoom’s recordings versus GarageBand, making this app my go-to for that function. I wish I had more to share on this, but podcast recording, editing, and producing is time consuming when I’m also writing whole novel series, managing social media and marketing, and running this Substack!

I almost forgot: Font Book

The unsung hero.

The quiet kid in the class who never says a word and yet saves your group project without you even asking.

I can’t believe I almost forgot to mention Font Book—and yet I can totally believe it, because this powerful little thing never “pops up” on the screen like the other apps. In fact, I think I should probably add it to my Dock (another awesome Apple feature for those of us who tend to leave everything open and need better organization).

What does it do? It stores all your fonts, including (and most importantly) the custom fonts you purchase and download online so you can add them to your other software and designs.

What does it also do?

Well, I’m only going to put my own experience here: it helps me remember how to spell That One Font That Was Super Cool And I Bought It Three Years Ago OMG What Was It Called…

Font Book lets your search your entire computer database for every font you’ve ever downloaded (and opened; you do need to open/add the OTF file to the Font Book once you have it) AND it previews how each iteration looks on screen. Bold, italics, standard, semi-bold, all of it.

It also adds these fonts to Word and Pages, with it being sometimes-automatic for Word but predictably needs some assistance for Pages (CLICK HERE for the instructions).

The two features that bring this whole suite together: Hyperlinks & Tags

Apple’s operating system as a whole offers a rather underused system of organization for ALL of your documents, downloads, and files: tags.

You can create tags, name them whatever you want (i.e. a book title), then add that same color-coded tag to everything that has to do with that subject. So now instead of scrolling through 1,675 downloads to find one screenshot of Ithandryll I took 2 years ago, I can go into the Finder’s sidebar menu, select “Ithandryll” under Tags, and as long as I took the 0.5 seconds to tag that screenshot when I downloaded it, I’ll find it under that search easy peasy.

This becomes super useful inside the suite—which hopefully you can now call your “Publishing Office”—because as new things and new projects are generated, you can keep using those tags to quickly find what you need as time marches forward.

Hyperlinks take the majority of these Apple programs and make them quickly accessible inside wherever you want to make your Master Dashboard, whether it’s Notes or Numbers, and also inside your iCalendar.

For example: say you copy/pasted a list of questions from an email about an upcoming podcast interview into Pages so you could write out your answers ahead of time. Once you save that document, you can copy/paste the link and put it inside your Notes where you have other information and files specific to this podcast, interviewer, your book, etc.

For Notion users wanting to shift to the Apple suite, hyperlinks help make your spreadsheets and charts operate in a very similar manner without the endless “nesting doll” effect that used to make me actually lose important information.

What’s worth the download?

Here is my list of software programs I truly believe are worth every penny and do actually integrate beautifully on a Mac/MacBook:

• Scrivener

• Vellum

• ProWritingAid (there is a free version!)

• Adobe Reader

• Audacity*

I write romantasy, urban romantasy, and basically am a fantasy author at my deepest core—which means world-building and character development operates on a level too deep and too intricate to cleanly draft manuscripts on Pages or other word processors. I mention this because I know there are a lot of brilliant authors who write contemporary romance, literary fiction, etc. and have no problems with single-document structures or forging soft-file organization systems inside folders, but the chats I’ve had with several indicated it’s feasible because the storytelling tends to be more direct and “what you see is what you get”.

Scrivener is to writing fantasy what Freeform is to plotting/mapping it all out: I can make notes, change my mind on chapter orders, forget and then remember character and location names, and ultimately let my chaotic mind run wild while still keeping everything inside a container. I can shake it up and rearrange and label and relabel…but never lose track of where I am. If you haven’t tried this software out yet, they offer a FULL 30-day Free Trial that counts actual usage days, not “oh it’s been a month but you only used it that one time, haha sucks to be you”.

Vellum takes what I did in Scrivener and makes it pretty. It can also, after some configuration, automate a lot of the formatting directly from Scrivener into ebook files ready for Kindle, Kobo, Nook, direct downloads, library servers, international servers, and print editions. One click, and my book is ready to fly into readers’ hands. It can be a bit pricey, but if you ride the wait to the Black Friday sale, you can save quite a bit off the top. They also let you download and use every single feature for free; you don’t pay until you need to generate those files. (Atticus does not offer any free trial at all, which turned me off—and I hear nothing but nightmare stories about the constant glitches in that cloud server!)

ProWritingAid has a completely free option to start off with and does not shove AI down your throat when you use it. Sure, there’s constant recommendations to use their (new) AI “assistant” to analyze your work and provide “digital beta reader feedback”, but to fully take that risk advantage, you do have to purposefully select those options. The Everywhere plugin works on every single application where you have the ability to type, and it can be toggled on or off based on your writing flow needs (I tend to turn it off during First Draft so it stops yelling at me).

Adobe Reader is a must to be able to open PDFs easily. That’s basically it. Don’t let them try to rope you into any subscriptions because this is a free, no-strings-attached program independent from the Adobe Creative Cloud.

Audacity gets the asterisk because I’m still learning GarageBand’s full editing capabilities and currently don’t have the time to record anything at all, so… Until that day comes, Audacity remains on my “worth having” because it’s free and the tutorials on YouTube were pretty straightforward. It’s also nice to have in the back pocket in case GarageBand doesn’t do something you need; there’s always a solid chance Audacity will get the job done.

What I’m still exploring

I don’t have much to say about these, other than they do seem worth the time to explore and learn so I can determine if I’m keeping them, buying the license(s), and/or utilizing them as part of my Publishing Office:

• Scapple—this connects directly to Scrivener; otherwise, Freeform works better for me

• iAnnotate—this may become irrelevant if the anticipated update to Scrivener for iPad delivers the features we’re all begging the developers to add

• Journal—I usually prefer to privately journal by hand, but my writing hand was injured and it hurts to write now

• Keynote—not sure what I’d use this for? Maybe a pitch deck for subrights literary agents?

• Publisher Rocket—bought this back when I had that kind of money; struggling to grasp the best usage but that’s on me

What I’ve let go

I really, truly gave these a very long time to see if I’d actually end up using them, especially since I have a bad habit of “not using” simply because I didn’t know how to.

This list comes after finding out I genuinely stopped using them altogether—and the last two I actually moved the sticky notes in my Freeform board from “Still Exploring” to “Let Go” while in the middle of drafting this exact article:

• Microsoft Office

• Creative Cloud

• Kindle (as an annotation/pull quote resource)

• Hive Project Management

• GSuite (as an author; I use this for the bookstore)

• Notion

• GoodNotes

A quick note on those last two:

I genuinely thought I’d still be using Notion because it does do a few things Notes doesn’t…but I haven’t opened that application since switching off into Apple’s suite. That surprised me. I’m still keeping it in the system because at some point, I’ll be creating templates to share with Notion users, but those will still originate and be fine-tuned in my Notes/Numbers/etc.

GoodNotes was my go-to iPad application for everything editorial: handwritten notes, edits, annotations, highlighting PDFs…and then they didn’t just add AI, they shoved it into every corner of the program while ending their “one and done” purchase option. I was devastated. Per their very transparent policy, they do not feed any uploaded documents into their AI, so I did give it a good shot to see if I could just skirt around the new junk. I couldn’t. It felt gross. I still have it on my iPad but only because I’m now a “legacy user” and there are too many archived documents I might need later on to risk losing in the Trash.

What I’ve learned about Budget vs. Function

Just because it looks like you need it, doesn’t mean you do.

I’m talking about all those ads promising fancy features and “your career is suffering without this” warnings for software programs that—let’s be honest—tend to recycle the same thing you probably already have installed in your computer.

For free.

I’m also writing this as someone so deeply broke (I currently possess just enough money to buy exactly one coffee), I get irritated when another author whines to me that their “budget doesn’t allow for such luxury” that’s actually something vital and necessary, like a business domain so their email doesn’t look like it came from a scammer…

Meanwhile, they’re paying for things they honestly may not need, like Microsoft 365.

I’m not saying this to be judge-y (although recent interactions on Threads got me a little salty, I’ll own that), but rather to point out that when the wallet laughs in your face, it’s worth taking a look at what you do already have before grieving the inability to get what you think you need.

And when the opportunity to upgrade knocks on your door, I daresay it’s better to invest in something that gives you everything right away rather than something you have to keep spending money to build.

But that’s just me.

Be cool.

Just…be cool.

Do not. In any way. Freak out.

Silently chanting this in her head was easier; it became a mantra that kept her calm enough to graciously accept the water offered by the office receptionist and take a seat on the luxurious couch by the window.

Which was basically the entire wall of this gigantic lounge.

Of course Cade Devoy attended meetings—or held them, whichever this may be—in skyscrapers filled with opulence and dripping with wealth. Even the velour of the couch felt like money and prestige, too posh for Elena’s broke ass to perch upon.

But perch she did, because it helped her hide from the receptionist’s questioning gaze.

It came at absolutely no surprise when every woman who laid eyes on Cade quickly did a double-take, flashed sweet smiles, batted flirtatious lashes, and practically purred their offers of assistance if he so happened to glance in their direction. Shoot, even the male guard down at the main lobby seemed interested in him, what with the winking and the grinning.

Again, everyone from the guard to the lady behind the marble desk Elena tried not to stare at exuded prestige. Status. The ability to afford apartments with actual bedrooms.

One day…

Elena scoffed at herself. Not even “one day”. The life of a successful artist, the life she aspired for, would be filled with splattered paint and reinvestments of sold pieces into more paint, more supplies, renting a larger studio…while probably still keeping her old one for some place to sleep and not smell turpentine.

She glanced out the glass wall to admire the crystal-clear view of the city.

Okay.

Maybe she’d swing for a studio with a much better view than Mrs. Garbinson’s back alley dumpsters.

Elena picked up her phone to check her student account for the fiftieth time since Cade told her to wait here. And, for the fiftieth time, the same PAID IN FULL notification in bold green font sat next to her zeroed-out account balance.

How was this possible? Didn’t it say she still owed money last week?

That wasn’t including the tips from last night, which she’d quickly and discreetly counted in a reception restroom stall after Cade greeted his hosts and left with them.

$3,500.

How?!

So between that, the weird scholarship Cade somehow managed to wrangle for her at the drop of a hat, and being surrounded by nothing but luxuries of the upper echelon?

Yeah. Elena needed a mantra to not start hyperventilating into a paper bag.

Especially with the strange dreams from the night before that still tugged at the corners of her memory. Nothing she could truly put her finger on, but there was something that echoed and flashed and made every other little thing feel more intense than it probably would have if she wasn’t losing her mind.

Deep laughter rumbled down the hall from an opening door. An older man in a linen suit stepped out, followed by Cade and another man she also didn’t recognize. Between the three, Cade appeared the most casual in a classic linen suit fitted for the pier as much as the office—and yet, somehow, he still managed to evoke an air of power superseding the other two. Maybe it was how he towered by a good few inches over them. Maybe it was how he didn’t join their laughter, just simply nodded and quirked a small smile for effort.

When his silver eyes locked on hers, Elena felt her face instantly heat and she returned to the solitaire app on her phone.

“Well, it’s like I said, Devoy.” The first man walked sideways so he could continue talking to Cade while leading them to the reception lounge. “We have three other interested buyers and we’re going to need a lot more collateral to even begin considering your offer.”

“Which is so strange, considering how everything was set to sign a week ago. On cash.” Cade’s smile remained calm and cool, but the warning in his gaze shifted silver to steel. “It’s like these buyers popped out of nowhere.”

“One we had already spoken with about a year ago, but they rescinded their offer until they were able to regain some capital. The other, well…” The man shrugged and chuckled again. “What can I say? The market can be a real bitch sometimes.”

Cade’s brow lifted ever so slightly. “Yes. Yes, it can.” He turned to Elena and held out his hand, which she took as a cue to play along. “Gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to Elena Martín, my new artist-in-residence.”

The second man scoffed. “For a second there, I thought you were going to say she’s your new girlfriend!”

“And if she is?”

Elena subtly cleared her throat so she didn’t choke on her own spit. What.

“Artist, huh?” The first man winked at her, then nodded at a large oil painting hanging on the wall next to them. “You must be familiar with Vermeer.”

She smiled and decided indulging his good intentions would be the best option. Pretend like you belong here. “Yes, he’s a classic. It’s a great replica.”

The man’s smile tilted. “Oh, no,” he scoffed, “this is an original. Curated from Sotheby’s and acquired for over thirty million.”

Now Elena did openly choke on her spit, right before she covered her mouth and feigned a cough. “Wow. What a…” She glanced up at Cade, who’d slipped his arm around her waist and now signaled with a press of his fingers that this was their cue to leave. “What a steal!” She finished with a bright laugh. “Lovely to meet you.”

They nodded, muttered their agreements and obligatory farewells, and watched her leave with Cade Devoy, who did not pause to speak with anyone else regardless if they tried.

Whether he figured this would be the short meeting he expected, or he texted his driver to start the car by the time they reached the front doors, Elena was still surprised—and impressed—to see said car waiting for them right on time. The driver slid out, opened the back door for them, and Cade ushered her inside before joining her.

Only once the door closed and the driver pulled them away did he start talking. “Are you sure? It’s a fake?”

“Yeah.” Elena shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “They didn’t get the signature right. It’s missing the ‘I’.”

He blinked at her. Then snorted a laugh while shaking his head. “I can’t wait to lord this over him. Varriday’s been an insufferable asshole ever since he bought that thing.”

“Varriday?”

“Robert Varriday, CEO of Varridian Enterprises and the current thorn in my side.” He pulled out his phone and began tapping a message. “I’d love nothing more than to knock him down a few pegs. Or down the whole fucking ladder.”

“Then why meet with him?”

“Because he has something I want.”

Elena waited for him to expand further, but Cade was too engrossed in texting whoever-it-was to explain. When it became clear he didn’t plan on filling in that blank, she sighed and watched the city life float by. “So…what did you mean by saying I’m your new ‘artist-in-residence’?”

“That.” Cade hit SEND and tucked his phone back into his jacket pocket. “You’re new. You’re an artist. And you’re living in my residence.”

That made her snort as well. “No, I am not.”

“Yes, actually, you are.”

Read more

“It almost made him laugh, now—that he thought he could kill the good in himself and resurrect it later, that the unending rage inside would burn out once it was no longer needed, that he could turn himself into a monster to kill something monstrous, and not stay that way forever.

In the end, what separates a man from a monster, when he is trying to do right?

And when the wars have been fought and the guilty have been killed and everything has been set as right as it can ever be set, how can he ever find himself again?”

Review Notice

This book review was originally published on BumbleBooks’ website (now Fae•ble, which has also changed platforms). I’m sharing it here on my author website due to the genre, the fact that I’ve sold out of copies, and I’m a feral fan who needs all 1600+ subscribers to know about this masterpiece.

Synopsis

With one touch, the existence of an entire kingdom crumbled into ash.

With one touch, the fate of an entire bloodline became sealed in blood.

With one touch, Vasily both gained and lost everything he was and ever aspired to be—consumed by grief, rage, and an unceasing hunger for vengeance against the people who killed his father.

It’s not as easy as wiping out every last member of the family, because one of them refuses to die. He doesn’t know why, either, because the world Taein found delicate safety in should have chewed him up and spit him out long ago. Despite everything, though, he keeps managing to bounce back and move forward—which makes him the ideal person to escort “special cargo” through the vast realm to a mysterious entity known only as The Outworlder.

As Vasily pursues the hunt for Taein’s final demise and Taein struggles to balance self-interests with protecting the “special cargo”, both men are forced to face the demons of their shared past if either of them have a chance of surviving the world that’s beginning to fall apart around them.

Analysis

Told from a captivating third person perspective, the narrative shifts focus between characters (labeled in each respective chapter) so you can immerse yourself within their thoughts and feelings. Maybe even share some opinions, too!

I was reminded of the fast-paced but thoroughly world-building composition of works like Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo and Akithar’s Greatest Trick by Jason Dorough. There’s just enough originality in character names and places to make this a truly unique setting and structure, but they’re not overly complicated like some higher fantasy works I typically DNF because my brain wants to relax, not work.

I need to take a moment to thoroughly applaud Matey for a brilliant, well-structured worldbuild overall. The biggest strength from which everything else branches out just as tangibly is in the description and establishment of the fictional “death culture”: the spiritual beliefs regarding what happens to a person when they die.

While this may sound macabre, hear me out: the comprehension and belief in an afterlife is one of, if not the, key point(s) anthropologists look for when determining if a prehistoric settlement was either human or close to being Homo sapien. From the concept of spiritual longevity and an afterlife comes practices during life which impact agriculture, legal structure, traditions and rituals, even family structure.

Prince of Glass is no exception to this rule. The world of the various Jins—sections of the encompassing Ieris that seem to be nations, if not geographical differences like Central America to North America—is imbued with superstitions, cultural words and habits, and even jewelry which all stems from the importance of their understanding of what happens when they die.

I’ve never thought to advise authors to establish Death Cultures in order to strengthen worldbuilds before, but now I’m thinking this needs to be a new standard. Well done, Matey!

The overall theme of Prince of Glass is where storytelling really makes this fictional world shine. How far is too far when pursuing your own personal sense of peace? Is the inability to let go of grief their problem, or yours?

And how much can a person do before they lose all humanity?

Personal Opinion

Just when I thought I was rooting for one character, they did something to make me change my mind and shift favoring opinions to someone else. Who then, similarly, did something abhorrent enough to make me move to someone else’s camp, and then that person would make me question if there even is such a thing as choosing sides in this book.

In my opinion?

No. There is not.

There are no sides.

Only chaos.

But that’s the brilliance and beauty of Matey’s storytelling—you truly are challenged to wonder about your own perceptions of justice, vengeance, loss, and ask the overall question for your own struggles: “Is it worth it?”

While this is definitely Fantasy, breathe easy. There’s no overly complicated languages or dialects, what new language is used always gets a translation, and even that’s sparse throughout the book. There’s also no romantic plot, so fantasy-lovers who don’t want to read about lovers can definitely enjoy this journey.

In the absence of wizards and swordplay comes a nail-biting, adrenaline-spiking confrontation with pestilence, superhuman abilities no one wants or likes, a wall of deadly mist that had me needing to take a moment to breathe…

Listen—if you’ve ever watched the real-life mists of Lake Michigan roll off the water into the city, you’ll understand why that chapter had me forgetting to operate my lungs.

I should take a moment to add a pseudo-Content Warning for anyone who’s still experiencing flashbacks, post-traumatic stress, et cetera from 2020 (that would be me, thanks): this book does contain descriptions and depictions of a fast-spreading pandemic.

Prince of Glass is set up as the first book of the Thorn and Ash series, with the sequel tentatively scheduled for December 2025 according to Matey’s response to my demands—I mean, my gentle probative questions regarding the next book’s release.

{2026 UPDATE: I haven’t heard from Matey in a while, so I believe there may have been a delay in the second book’s release? I will update this article with more information as it comes.}

About the Author

From the author’s bio:

“Sarah Matey was raised among the unending green of the Pacific Northwest and spent her childhood riding horses, exploring the woods with her orange cat Dale, and writing stories. Today, she can be found fending off the soul-crushing drudgery of adult responsibilities with a pen in one hand, a guitar in the other, and Dale ever at her side; still resident of the PNW, married to the love of her life, and forever enchanted by storytelling.”

Matey designed the stunning cover herself, which is actually how I first came across this book in a Facebook Group back in 2023! The internal map was illustrated by Jack @EJdelGato (on X/Twitter), with further illustrations created by Lauren Glasgow.

Prince of Glass is the perfect recommendation for every contemporary, action-packed fantasy lover’s bookshelf. Libraries and bookstores should absolutely make the wise investment into stocking this title, as it’s sure to quickly become a fan favorite. My own bookstore sold out every single copy within the first 2 weeks!

This brings me to my final point, and my main point of contention:

The fact that this book hasn’t already swept readers and Bookstagram/BookTok/Book Blogs by storm feels like a crime.

Like a whole world is sleeping on something that can easily rival all our other obsessions and sit comfortably next to Shadow and Bone and Caraval.

I want sprayed edges, foiled hardcovers, cozy hoodies with quotes, replicas of the rosewood pendants that anchor my soul for the afterlife…everything.

This book deserves everything.

Follow Sarah (S. A.) Matey on Instagram: @saarahwrites

Check out her website for more Thorn and Ash updates, bonus content, and ways to work with her on your own creative storytelling!

Want more great reads from indie authors? Check out these giveaways and book promos:

Sunlight streamed through the slats of her studio apartment window, making it impossible for Elena to steal a few more minutes of sleep.

Her head hurt.

Muscles ached.

Nothing alarming made her jump out of bed to check in the mirror, but she still wondered what the actual heck happened the night before? She didn’t even drink that much. Partying and getting smashed wasn’t her scene.

Nightclubs definitely weren’t her scene.

Ugh…

A quick glance to either side of her tiny twin bed confirmed at least one thing: she was home, alone, with no one there. And no evidence of anyone being there, like taking a shower or cooking breakfast.

Something twisted in her heart at the emptiness that should have felt comforting. Was she disappointed that Cade hadn’t stayed?

Wait…how did she get home in the first place?

Elena groaned as she slowly sat up, rubbing her temples until the pressure in her head subsided enough to stand on her feet. Wobbly feet, but functional enough to shuffle to the kitchen. Coffee would be required before she could mentally retrace her steps from last night.

She froze mid-step.

When did she change into her sleep shirt?

A fresh wave of dread washed over her as she glanced around the small apartment for signs of a struggle, discarded clothing, anything that would tell her what/who/how this happened. She couldn’t remember leaving The Solarium. She couldn’t remember getting home, or fumbling with her keys, or stripping off her clothes and slipping on the soft shirt that now hung to her knees and cheerfully announced, “Coffee saves lives”.

But there were no kicked pants, or a tossed tunic shirt or even a discarded bra.

Elena grabbed her breasts.

No bra.

A quick shimmy of her hips relieved the worst of her fears—at least she still had panties on.

She was about to grab her phone when someone knocked on her door. Heart suddenly in her throat, she tiptoed to see who it was through the peephole. It didn’t sound like Maintenance’s heavy thumping, or even the super’s…

A silver eye peered back through the hole.

Elena felt her blood pressure instantly skyrocket. But despite her shaky fingers, she managed to open the door. “Hi.”

“Good morning.” Cade thrust a large iced coffee at her and used the momentum to shoulder his way into her apartment. “Glad to see you up and about. I come bearing magic elixir for that headache you undoubtedly have.”

She frowned, but took the coffee. One sip made her instantly forgive him—he knew to make it a mocha. “How did you know?”

“Side effect of attending events at The Solarium without a club membership. The drinks can get a little…tricky.”

“Was I drugged?”

The way he froze in place, just for half a second, gave her a far more honest answer than what came from his mouth. “You were safe.” Cade busied himself by looking around the small studio, flipping open cupboards and poking into her fridge. “We made sure nothing happened to you.”

“Except something did happen to me.” She swept a hand over her body when he frowned at her over the fridge door.

“Ah. That.” He quickly nodded, shut the door, and took a long swig of his own coffee. There was no hiding the way he gave her a deliberate once-over, though. “That was all Seka. Lady to lady, because I am a gentleman.”

Elena narrowed her eyes. “Why do I only believe half of that?”

“Because it’s half true.” He plucked a book from her floating bookshelf and flipped it open—then bit back a chuckle when she snatched the obvious diary from his fingers and stuffed it under her pillow. “I’m hardly a gentleman.”

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“Where the heck have you been?!”

I knew I was being quiet online—it’s been practically a whole month since my last official post/article/newsletter thingie, I’ve basically abandoned Notes, and social media slid down from “actually scheduled” to “is she still with us?”

Why?

Because I’ve been deep in the writing for Song of the Sidhe, my modern epic fantasy romance whose third book is due to come out later this year.

You know, the book I swore up and down would never, ever be split into two—like I did with Ithandryll, which became Ithandryll and Heir of Oberon—thus making this The Big One.

If you’re sipping an iced coffee and side-eyeing the screen while reading this, you’re completely correct in doing so.

Gardening + Writing = Accepting Difficult Truths

It’s the end of May, which means I’ve been out in the huge bookstore/tea house/family food garden getting burned, bit, and bummed out by the realities that come with growing things from seed.

Listen: I love growing flowers and food from seed! Do not misunderstand me there. I find greater joy in cultivating huge plants from tiny specks that pack more generative power than the human brain (in my humble opinion). As I’m writing this, I’m basking in the high of currently having not one, but TEN apple tree seedlings taking root in their germination pots after nearly 4 months in cold stratification (aka the fridge).

But here’s a harsh truth I’ve had to contend with since I started gardening last year:

This became increasingly apparent the more I drafted Blood of Balor. I’ve been so determined to keep it contained in one book, determined to avoid the “splitting” that I had to do back when I wrote Ithandryll and ended up needing to “figure out” Heir of Oberon even though I was so certain I knew how that was supposed to go.

Why I swore this wouldn’t be split up

Ask anyone who’s been on my ARC Team since the beginning: I’ve been pretty vocal and adamant about keeping everything mapped, planned, outlined, et cetera in one solid tome because I didn’t see any plausible way to split the narrative.

The second book of the series, Heir of Oberon, ended on a note of situational hardship paired with logistical questions definitely about to be answered in the next installment. Without giving away any spoilers, I’ve always known exactly where this next installment would lead because it’s the “Turning Point” of the whole series’ storyline. I knew where we’d pick up, where everyone needed to go in the middle, and where we’d end up before continuing the journey in the next leg, Khali Rising.

Outlining Book 3 quickly became a strong, zero-adjustment-needed Four Act Structure:

1. The Hunt

2. The Night Realm

3. House Dolus

4. The Trial

Also known in my Author Brain as:

1. Where the Heck Is Everyone

2. What the Heck Is Going On Here

3. Who the F*** Are You & What the F*** Are You Doing

4. My Readers Are Gonna Kill Me

In its original drafting and developmental formatting, the key points hit every beat without a single misstep, and that crescendo before the hard crash was just…*chef’s kiss*

But an itch kept coming up in the back of my storytelling brain.

It just felt like everything, everywhere, was missing…something.

Why it ended up being split anyway

I kept going back into the draft to answer questions I knew readers would have (because, as an avid reader myself, I’d definitely have them!).

I kept feeling like certain characters deserved more time on the page, more time in their relationships, and more overall exposition to strengthen their positions in the story, for better or for worse.

I kept doing research into the parts of our “real world” that constantly inspire more and more lore. I wanted to find mythical creatures that were/are probably fae from all over the globe, and conspiracy theories that label the perpetrators as “aliens” when all the descriptions nudge harder into the probability that something is definitely calling from inside the house.

Like the mananangaal (super proud of myself for memorizing the spelling): a woman who tears herself in half and grows her arms into bat-like wings to fly in the night sky, hunt prey, and freak people out with her dangling innards until she returns to her hidden-for-safety bottom half to become human again before dawn.

And like that whole Skinwalker Ranch show where I’m tellin’ ya, they got full-on pixies flying right in front of the camera but the scientists on the team never breathe a word about it.

None of this is to say I continued to stuff unnecessary exposition and situations into the manuscript. I actually cut out several chapters of “fluff” because yeah, we get it, people have feelings. People need to process those feelings. I’d just rather Roxi and Devon work through those feelings while also trudging through the jungles of their respective location(s) instead of sitting around sipping lemonade.

Each “Act” in the outline began to develop more subtopics and plot lines, demanding the care and respect that goes into fantasy-focused storytelling. It’s not enough for Roxi to just suddenly find a way back into the Otherworld—she has to grapple with the reality that the majority of her family lives in the American Midwest, which means going back to reunite with Devon requires leaving behind loved ones she’d been missing despite her long-desired independence. She has to confront those who know where viable portals between the realms are but refuse to help her, even though they don’t have a good reason for it.

As for Devon? He’s got some serious family issues.

Like, Dr. Phil-would-be-flipping-chairs-on-that-episode Serious Family Issues.

Before I knew it, Act One had 20 chapters. Act Two had 22 chapters.

I know for a fact that Act Three & Four are even longer because fit’s about to hit the shan hard.

Which brings me to my biggest concern: printing costs.

I was okay with producing a massive ebook.

My readers were ready to carve out the time to read this Game of Thrones-level novel the likes of which could probably fell a lumberjack with one solid swipe to the head. In paperback.

HOWEVER…

Prices have been going up in the printing world, and I feel sick just estimating the MSRP/Retail Price of a Print-On-Demand paperback that’s 80-90 chapters long and close to 1,000 pages.

Then there’s the Kickstarter Factor: I shudder to think what a Collector’s Edition of a book that size, with the gold foil/French flaps/full-color map specs, would cost just at wholesale!

To be honest, that’s the part that made me take a more critical look at the outline and drafted chapters to find The Sweet Spot where I could carefully apply pressure with the “narrative scalpel” and dissect the story. I’m already feeling the pressure of economic inflation in every aspect of my life, my career, and the last thing I ever want to do is make it even more difficult for readers like you to afford the stories I’m crafting for the sake of the message, not the money.

Although, I mean, the money does help.

It just felt gross to cling tightly to my oath that Book 3 would never ever be split into two at the literal expense of everyone eager to read it. I’m not writing novels to market, and best believe I’m not creating more books as a “cash grab” (even though, again, the backlist helps).

So I found that Sweet Spot.

And I spliced the story into what is now Queen of Night and Blood of Balor..

What this means for the future of the series

Well, for one thing: I’m not gonna make such stubborn declarations again!

The biggest adjustment I’m making for myself, and in reference to the series, is identifying the segments of the storyline by the already-established titles but with the open understanding that each “book” may become 2-3 books depending on word count, chapter count, and the story itself.

What’s ironic & hilarious to me is that only a handful of years ago, I rolled my eyes at the authors who write what feels like a gazillion books “just to get one simple story out”.

My sincerest apologies.

Yes, my foot tastes awful.

What you need to know about Queen of Night

First: there’s a tomato breed in the seed catalog I order from called “Queen of the Night” and something in the back of my mind whispered, back in January, “You should totally grow this because it’ll fit with your book launch.”

Which didn’t make sense to me because the upcoming book was called Blood of Balor.

…I ordered the seeds yesterday.

Second: this isn’t just some expository leg of Roxi & Devon’s romantic adventure where it’s only “leading up to” everything in Book 4 (now the official Blood of Balor).

There’s more magic, more mayhem, and more creatures that I always knew would be included in the series, we just haven’t had the logistical opportunity to meet them yet in the first two books. Which, much to my internal chagrin, led to several casual reviews in comments and book recs describing the creatures of the Otherworld as “the typical British/UK bunch”.

Queen of Night begins to introduce both original creatures dreamed up specifically for this series, as well as the ones I’ve discovered during research from regions like the Philippines, Indonesia, rural China, Siberia, Romania, potentially even Samoa and Micronesia. They’re beautiful and terrifying and belong in such an organic way in the regions of the Otherworld our protagonists have only begun to explore.

Like the Outer Wilds of the Night Realm.

The remote islands in the Silver Seas.

The suspiciously uncharted, nondescript, “nothing exists over there” land beyond the northern mountains that border Ithandryll.

One pretty significant thing I think most readers have been overlooking, so I’m giving you the heads up right now:

The White City, the serialized urban romantasy that publishes chapters every weekend here on Substack?

10000% has to do with everything going on in Song of the Sidhe.

Caedmon Dubhoidhe (aka “Cade Devoy”) isn’t just a pretty face and the underworld overlord of Chicago’s mystical/dangerous night life—he’s also a remnant of what the Night Realm used to be like, what it used to mean to people in all the interconnected realms, and he bears both physical and emotional scars from his near-fatal confrontation with Riordhan Rionnaghan.

Remember that prologue in Heir of Oberon?

Yeah, that guy.

Devon’s infamous grandfather.

Let’s just say Cade’s got a bone to pick with a particular family and does not, in any way shape or form, feel the slightest compulsion to help them.

Queen of Night debuts
September 30, 2026

Signups to join the Advanced Reader Copy (ARC) Team are open! The ARC edition is slated to distribute mid-to-late August, so if you need to catch up on Books 1&2 (which are provided in the Welcome Email), now’s the time to join and start reading!

Join 🍄The ARC Circle🍄

Cade struggled to open his eyes.

They shouldn’t feel so heavy. So impossible. He wasn’t…Shit.

Did he fall asleep?

No. Cade Devoy never did that. He would never fall asleep in his own nightclub, especially not when hosting one of those functions that required constant diligence to corral the bullfuckery fae orgies tended to create.

Sure enough, the real event was well underway by the time he was able to pry his eyelids open and blink back the blur. His private booth kept him at a safe distance from the writhing mass of moaning, sweating bodies, but he could still see them and they could see him.

“Welcome back,” purred the woman nestled in his arms.

He blinked at her. He expected to see his fiery artist but instead was met with someone completely different. “Who the fuck are you?”

She stretched her arm around him in a feigned yawn and batted her long, iridescent lashes at him. “Mariana, remember? Ryla said you requested me.”

He did. Just not for this. “Alright, get up.” He resisted the urge to throw her off despite the fact that her touch made him feel nauseous. He may have been ruthless, but he wasn’t an asshole. Not completely.

“What’s wrong?” Mariana straightened but didn’t bother to move out of the booth. Or out of his way. “Need me to grab you another drink?”

Cade peered at the empty glasses on the table. There were only two—one for him, and one for Elena.

He didn’t drink enough to feel this inebriated.

“Get out.” Now he did nudge her harder so she’d get the message. “Move.”

Mariana pouted but obeyed, even though she took her sweet time doing it. When she finally slid out of the way, he shoved past her and headed straight for the bar. Or at least he tried to.

The room went kind of…diagonal.

His mind scrambled for the most plausible explanation, which only worsened his balance. No one would dare spike his drink, of that much he was certain. To do so was not only wildly immature and stupid, it created an immediate death sentence for whoever came up with the idea. An even slower, more painful execution for the one who slipped the potion into his cocktail. Everyone knew this.

He blinked a few times. His sight kept blurring. Finally, he managed to slam his hands against the counter and braced himself before he tripped over one of the stools. “Water. Now.”

Someone thrust an ice cold can of water into his outstretched hand, opened and ready for him to chug. Which he did. Whatever this was, he needed to flush his system so he could go hunt down whoever did this to him.

“You don’t look so good.” The bartender peered at Cade. “You feeling okay?”

“No,” he croaked back. Chugged more water. Slammed the can down. “Who mixed my drink?”

The bartender paled at his glare and took a half-step back. “I did. Exactly as you ordered it.”

Cade trusted him. He’d been employed with the organization for years and never once gave anyone reason to doubt him for anything. And, like a wise person should, he valued his life. “Who gave you my order?”

“Ryla. A MoonBeam for you, and a Special Milky Way for the human.”

Fuck.

Cade sucked down the last of the water and pointed the empty can at him. “Grab her. Put her in lockdown. Tell Seka we’ll deal with her later, but she is not allowed to leave this building. Understood?”

He gave his boss one firm nod and quickly darted away to take care of it. No questions asked.

Cade ignored the outstretched arms and moaning pleas for him to join the orgy, focused instead on finding Elena. She was nowhere to be found, not in his booth nor among the writhing mass of hungry mouths and gyrating limbs. If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t care—but this was his nightclub and his responsibility. Elena Martín was supposed to be under his protection simply by association.

She was supposed to be in his arms, asleep or awake.

If you hadn’t left her before…

He shook off the nagging sense that this could have been prevented. No. He made the right call the first time, when he decided it was best for her safety—and his sanity—to keep her as far away from him and his life as possible. As humanly possible, so the phrase went.

Wasn’t this moment proof that he was right?

Vic met him at the top of the stairs. He’d never been one for Midsummer orgies, so he was still fully clothed and on duty. “She left,” he said before Cade could take the first step down to the lounge.

Several curses he hadn’t uttered in eons flew from his mouth before it snapped shut in a tight grimace.

“Grab your coat.” Cade glanced around the room for Seka, but his head began to spin again and focusing hurt more than giving up. He winced and motioned for Vic to follow him. “Let’s go.”

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I want to be his.

She wanted to be responsible.

I want to be his.

She wanted to slap him hard across the face and yell at him for pulling one over her and then having the absolute balls to even think he could flirt and fondle his way out of it.

I want to be his.

Elena didn’t know what the heck she wanted.

Except a drink. Dios mio, did she need a drink.

“All done!”

The announcement blurted from his mouth out of freaking nowhere. He plopped the brush back into the bowl, leaned back into the couch, and spread his arms again like before. “What do you think?” Cade asked with a broad grin.

I think you just gave me whiplash.

She glanced down at her chest. It was covered in streaks and swirls of gold, with a few patterns mimicking the tattoos on his neck. “It’s…beautiful!” She breathed a laugh. “It’s actually really beautiful!”

He chuckled. Such a completely different sound coming from him and Elena almost—almost—forgot the part where she needed to keep him at arm’s length. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

A new kind of heat bloomed in her cheeks. “I didn’t mean…I mean, ah…”

“I need to return upstairs.” Again, his lane change was abrupt and unexpected. At least he had the decency to help her off his lap and back onto her feet like a gentleman. “Thanks for the glitter job.”

“That’s it?”

Cade turned his head to look at her. Like he was waiting for her to lob the exact barrage of accusations and insults she’d been rehearsing for weeks. But when Elena simply stared at him, mouth parted yet unmoving, his own mouth twisted into that irritating, self-assured smirk.

“Plan on packing up and joining us for a few drinks?” He moved into her space again. Far too close. Way too intimate. When his fingers wrapped around hers, he lifted them to his lips. Pressed a soft kiss. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

Elena melted.

“I, ah…” She cleared her throat and quickly shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’ve still gotta work this gig. I mean, help Seka and all. Thanks, though.”

“Thanks”?! That’s the best you got??

“Pity.” He lowered her fingers but didn’t let go of her hand. “Well, when you change your mind, come find me.”

A thousand arguments and reproaches floated through her head, starting with how that should be a massive “if” and not a “when”, but they all dissolved when he brushed another kiss to the back of her hand.

Then abruptly turned and left.

Elena just stood there. Wondered if anyone would notice if she just collapsed right there and stared at the ceiling for a few hours. Because that sounded like a wonderful idea.

She was still standing there in complete bewilderment when Vic returned. “Elena? Everything all right?”

He must have seen the way her face instantly flushed. Eyes wide. Legs wobbly. Her cheeks burned hotter when she shook her head, then quickly corrected it with a nod. She didn’t know how to answer that. “Everything’s great! I’m ready for whoever’s next.” On a second thought, she realized how rushed and rude she must have sounded. “How was your break?”

Vic’s brow pinched the tiniest of measures, but he didn’t call her out on her bullshit. “It was good. Party’s really kicking off.” He glanced at the table covered with her supplies. “Did you want to go up for a while? Get a few drinks?”

“Nah, I should stay here.” She waved a hand to dismiss the temptation. Even though a drink sounded like exactly what she needed. “Got a job to do.”

After a beat, he smiled. “Boss says you’re done for the night.”

She froze. Did he mean Seka? Or was this from Cade, who would absolutely pull some invisible string like this to get what he wanted?

Crap. Was she just canoodling with one of Seka’s guests while the security cameras watched?

Elena’s blood chilled and she quickly started counting all the money she was definitely about to lose because she couldn’t keep her own hormones in check. “Are you sure? Is she sure? Seka wants me to leave?”

“Oh! No, nothing like that.” Vic’s smile brightened and he walked over to help her pack up her things. “In fact, I hear your paycheck’s been doubled. Boss says everyone has absolutely loved you and the turnaround for the charity portion is way more than expected. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

She nearly wheezed when she hear the word “doubled”. There were a few bills she’d been neglecting that this gig just officially covered, and she wasn’t even done counting her tips.

Maybe she wouldn’t need to remind Cade about his promise after all.

Well…not right away, at least. Tuition didn’t pay itself, but at least the past due phone bill would get caught up.

“I could use a drink,” she quietly admitted, more to herself than to Vic.

“Why don’t you go on up? I got this.” He gently nudged her aside and started zipping up her brush bag. “Besides, the drinks are on the house tonight. Open bar, no limits, full security. And just let me know if you need me to call you a ride for home, you got that?”

She liked Vic. He seemed like good people—paternal, in a way. Like an uncle or older brother. She definitely don’t miss the protective hint in his voice. “Thanks, Vic. Really. I won’t be up there long.”

He scoffed like he didn’t believe her. Glanced down at the sparkling symbols on her neck. “Take your time.”

Downstairs was a quiet space to relax, rejuvenate, and relieve oneself of everything going on upstairs.

Upstairs was a whole other realm.

A sea of jumping, gyrating, grinding bodies covered in sweat and glitter made up the whole dance floor from one wall to the next. The music felt more like a full-body vibration than actual song, pulsating with every heartbeat and pushing the sea into tidal waves of laughter and moans.

Elena had never been to a charity event like this before.

Of course the bar needed to be located on the completely opposite side of the room. No way to get around the dance floor, and no other beverage options were to be found no matter how hard she looked or how high she tried to hop to see over the mass of heads and shoulders blocking her view.

She did, however, spot the display tables of information she expected at a more…she would say, “normal” function. There were a few cardboard cutouts and trifold brochures propped up on folding tables, most of them featuring the smiling face of a woman hugging a small child.

Must be the people they’re feeding. Or housing. To be honest, she forgot what the charitable cause was for.

Elena began to shoulder her way through the dancers, doing her best not to get caught up in their attempts to pull her into the fray. She recognized many of the faces that turned to smile and grin at her, some with genuine happiness while others eyed her with desire. And hunger. And glints of things that made her want to get through a lot faster.

The crowd started squeezing around her.

Pushing.

Pulsing.

Groping.

I don’t want this.

A man sneered at her, winking above a perfect set of white teeth that seemed almost too sharp when they glinted in the disco light. He reached for her, holding out his hand for her to take, but she felt herself get nudged and wedged deeper into the mass.

I don’t want to be here.

Alcohol on a woman’s breath fanned across her cheek and traveled to her neck, the woman herself giggling and moaning an invitation to “join us” as she tried to slip her fingers through Elena’s.

I don’t—

Silver eyes meet hers.

They instantly sharpened with awareness, set above a familiar jaw that tensed and ticked as he started to shove his way through. He was all the way across the floor but seemingly determined to get to her, moving and pushing people out of his way.

“Glitter Girl!”

One of the guys who’d come downstairs with his girlfriend cut in front of Elena, a drunken grin plastered on his bronzed face. “You joined us! Excellent! Can I get you a drink? Or do you,” he lowered his voice into a lusty growl as his hands wrapped around her waist, “want to dance?”

Panic lanced through her. She didn’t want to dance. She didn’t want his hands on her. “I just want a drink, thanks.”

“Aw, come on. You’re so beautiful!”

“Thanks,” she tried to laugh as she edged away from his tightening grasp. “But I’m just really thirsty—”

“I’ve got something you can drink.” He pressed up behind her at the same time he pulled her hard against him. “Shall we go back downstairs?”

She turned hard to wrench herself free.

And that’s when she saw a hand clamp down on his shoulder.

“Dominic.” Cade yanked hard to make her unwanted dance partner spin around and face him. “Are you blind? Or just unable to fucking read?”

Dominic chuckled, but Elena could tell he wasn’t as confident as he appeared five seconds ago. “The hell are you talking about?”

“Look again, dumbass.”

He did. More at her neck and collarbone than anywhere else. He squinted and leaned in closer, but only as close at that vice grip would allow. And then he swallowed hard. “I-I’m sorry, man. I couldn’t see in all this light.”

The arched brow told both of them that Cade wasn’t buying it. “Now you can. Back off. Go find your woman. Or should I let her know what you’re up to?”

Dominic vanished into the crowd. It was almost impressive how quickly he disappeared.

Elena’s pseudo-savior grabbed her hand tight. “Don’t let go,” he said loud enough in her ear for her to hear over the music. “And don’t take anything anyone gives you.”

“Including you?”

He glared at her. Then that impish grin broke across his handsome face. “We’ll see,” was his cryptic reply.

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Elena blinked at him.

“I…I’m sorry?” She finally managed to squeak. And then, after another pause, her stare sharpened into a glare. “You must be out of your mind.”

That cold smile he’d threatened the other guys with suddenly brightened and widened and melted into something far more impish. Cade moved behind her, sat down on the couch, and spread his arms…

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Her hands shook too hard to fit the key into the lock.

Meilyssa took a deep breath. Rested her brow against the cool wood of the familiar door, the solid and tangible “portal” to her private rooms safe within the palace.

In Baronane.

Not some random world light-years away in a galaxy uncharte…

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Cade hated social events.

Despised them, really.

He hated the schmoozing. The flouncing. The fake flattery and tittering laughter that grated inside his head worse than nails on an old chalkboard.

Then again, there was nothing a good drink…or several…couldn’t fix.

“I’m holding you to it, Cade.” Seka wagged her finger in his face with all the confidence of someone who knew he wouldn’t chop it off. For now. “Open bars are expensive as hell. If you stick me with the bill—”

“I said I’m covering it, yeah?” He wrapped his hand around hers and lowered that accusatory finger. But he didn’t let go, not while she insisted on zipping around the place in a frenzy. “I already took care of the first half.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You better. Last year’s debacle ended up with me practically having to sell half my house just for the damage, let alone the consumption! Because where were you? Huh?”

Cade refused to acknowledge the heat rising in his face. “I was…preoccupied. With our guests.” A pair of very limber, very eager, and very beautiful guests. “Tonight will go smooth. Stop worrying. A few drinks, a few games, some loud music—everyone will have a great time! You’ll see.”

“There’s a lot I’d rather not see, thank you.”

He chuckled and finally let go of her hand. After all these years, and how many Midsummer Night parties? Seka knew what to expect, and she was “guilty” of participating in more than a few delectable orgies once the liquor hit her system. But at the same time, Cade couldn’t blame her for not wanting to see the naked asses of people they’d both have to negotiate serious business deals with the next morning.

“I left my check with your office, by the way.” He wandered over to one of the art pieces in the room and touched a finger to the sharp tip of a gold leaf suspended from one of the wall lamps. It wasn’t enough to make him bleed, which was somewhat disappointing.

“I heard. Thank you.” She smoothed out her bodycon dress and cleared her throat. Her thick sable hair was finally starting to grow longer out of the shaved faux hawk fade she’d insisted on getting a few months ago; it gave her overall appearance a sexy-yet-intimidating edge she’d need for the night’s festivities. Paired with her perfectly sculpted brows that arched over dangerously glinting amber eyes, Seka Derringer was more hunter than prey in any given situation.

Cade wondered if it was on purpose.

He often wondered if she, like him, refused to revisit The Old Days of being someone else’s victim.

Seka whipped her attention to one of Cade’s personal picks for guards, Vic, who they both spotted waving at her from down the hall. “Looks like our artist is here. I need to go make her comfortable.”

For the briefest of moments, Cade felt his throat close. He managed to clear it before scratching out, “Artist?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged a casual shoulder and focused on something on her phone. Like she was avoiding his gaze. “You know, entertainment. We’re still fundraising for that charity program, after all. I figured it’d be a good idea to hire someone to sweeten the pot.”

“Mhm.” He narrowed his eyes at her, but couldn’t pick out anything betraying that shenanigans were afoot. “Right.”

“Right. So, be good.” Seka tapped her phone screen off and shot him a warning Look over her shoulder as she went to join Vic. “I mean it, Cade. We’ve got a lot riding on this.”

As if she needed to remind him.

Tonight wasn’t just a celebration of seasonal changes and celestial solstice—although that was the origin of the annual shindig—but rather a giant window of opportunity to gather as much blackmail and bargaining material as humanly…and inhumanly…as possible. The guest list Seka confirmed with him a week ago included three district court judges, two city hall clerks, the police commissioner, and a mayoral candidate whose campaign was in desperate need of a financial benefactor.

All humans.

All completely susceptible to—and unaware of—the kind of fae magic that surged and seeped through the pores of all who felt the solstice’s energy shift.

A few innocent drinks were enough to loosen tongues so secrets would spill into the ears and recorders Cade made sure to set up in every corner of building.

A few more drinks, this time laced with drops of essences not found in the Outworld (but heavily bargained for with a bouncer who traveled between realms often enough) ensured that every word that tumbled from intoxicated lips would only be the truth.

Whatever happened after all the alcohol and soul-spilling was entirely up to the human. In Cade’s experience, they almost always wound up in exceptionally compromising positions that required some considerable detangling the next morning. While not the most pleasant to look at, to Seka’s point, this was the most ideal outcome with the more corrupt politicians who delighted in Cade’s generous hospitality. All he had to do was show them a few choice pictures on his phone whenever they started getting difficult, and suddenly they were more than happy to cooperate.

The one hard and non-negotiable rule of all these events was consent.

Cade Devoy forbade the theft of consent on pain of death.

Sure, there were many potions and essences from the Otherworld constantly smuggled into Chicago, and far be it from him to police it. In many ways, he didn’t outright care. But when it came to things that went on inside his house, his establishments specifically, and under his own nose?

No one dared to play that game. He forbade it, and that was that.

“Cade.” One of his “business associates”, Milo, broke him out of his reverie and greeted him with a strong handshake and a clap on his shoulder. “Good of you to be here.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Lies. Cade slid his crafty gaze to the fae with the tiniest of smirks. “And I need to empty a few accounts before tax season.”

Milo shook his head with a good-natured sigh. “I keep telling you, you’re wasting your skills in real estate. You should be consulting with financial investors.”

“And make them wealthier than me? Absolutely not.”

Cade nodded to the waiting DJ to go ahead and start playing music. It was seven o’clock on the dot, and he hated delays.

“Drinks are on me tonight.” He returned the shoulder pat with his own. “I don’t want you sober by the time we’re done.”

He grinned at Cade, the golden lamplight glinting on his sharp incisors. “You got it.”

As more people came in through the nondescript front door, the overhead lights began to dim and the spinning disco ball descended from a slot in the ceiling. A few of the guests beelined for the bar once they saw the sign green-lighting unlimited imbibing; others stumbled excitedly onto the dance floor to warm up with their partners.

Cade decided this was the time to become antisocial and assume his favorite chair in his favorite booth in the far corner of the venue. No one would bother him with their questions unless he allowed them to. No one would approach him unless he gave the signal that they were allowed.

He wasn’t going to. He was not in the mood.

His gaze kept flicking to the hallway where a set of stairs led to the lower level.

Stop it.

Chicago was filled with artists from all over the world. Seka most likely hired some down-on-their luck savant just to boost their morale and their wallet; she had a soft spot for things like that.

The chances that she—

No.

He rubbed a hand over his face. Let it go. Get a drink.

Gods knew he needed several drinks in order to stop thinking about her.

He couldn’t afford to think about her tonight. He couldn’t juggle the ache in his chest with the heat surging beneath his skin or the plans in place to secure stronger footing within Chicago’s political infrastructure.

One flick of his fingers was all it took for one of the bartenders to approach his booth with a slight bend at the waist. “What can I get for you, sir?”

“Bourbon. Neat.” He drummed his fingers on the table, feeling increasingly unsettled as time ticked forward. “Make it two.”

“Coming right up, sir.”

Cade suspected he might need a keg of the stuff before the night was through.

The first tumbler of bourbon was enough to ease the itch. The second started to numb the edges of the ache in his heart—no, his chest.

“Another,” he told the waiting barkeep. “And keep them coming.”

“Caedon-waydon, won’t you come dance with me?”

He was drunk, but not that drunk.

“Why don’t you dance for me, babydoll?” He smoothed his hand over her hip as she sidled onto his lap. It was difficult to tell which was stronger, the liquor on her breath or the perfume on her neck.

Whatever-her-name-was giggled and purred and slid her bony ass closer. “Mmmm, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

“You know it.”

His playful nip at her nose earned him an annoying peal of laughter. Her playful attempt to kiss him was dodged by a smooth sip of his third…ieth…bourbon. When she tried again, he tucked his arm around her and offered the glass tumbler to her lips.

“Good stuff.” He gave her hip a naughty squeeze and weighed the cost benefits of giving in to her ploy for his more intimate affections. He couldn’t remember her name, but he vaguely remembered she’s a hellcat in bed.

It helped she also somewhat resembled—

Nope. Cade immediately sat up straighter and set the fae woman down on the seat next to him.

“You okay?” She furrowed her brow as she pressed her hand to his chest. “You’re acting all jumpy.”

He scoffed and grabbed for his drink. “The hell are you talking about?”

But she was right, now that he focused on it. About as much as his sloshing brain would allow him to. Just when he finally felt that stupid pressure in his chest fade away completely, Whatsherface had to plop down on his lap and flare it up all over again.

Worse than before.

“Maybe we should hit the dance floor.” Whatever he needed to do to take his mind off things. He nuzzled her neck and added a whisper to his offer. “I’ll show you my moves now…and later.”

She took the bait. Believed the lie. Giggled and led him by the hand to the overcrowded dance floor before she was suddenly swept away by her friends, their suspicious stares darting between the woman and their dangerous host.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t a total lie. All things considered, Cade still had needs and desires and probably would want to get his rocks off after his obligations of the evening were said and done. It’d be the perfect distraction from…other things.

Like the memories of a certain lush-lipped artist he swore he’d never see again.

That was his gift to her. Because damn it all, she managed to make him care.

And caring about anyone meant making sure he kept his tainted life far the fuck away from them.

Cade blinked. He’d been making his way through the dance floor, lost in his thoughts, when the disco and strobe lights started sparkling off the guests. Half of them were covered in glitter. Golds, silvers, fuchsias, some with rainbows shimmering down their arms…the disco ball was starting to look dim compared to Seka’s guest list.

He caught the eye of one of the guards. Noticed the silver streaks sparkling along his jaw. “Not you, too?”

Dan smiled sheepishly and shrugged as Cade approached him. “When in Rome, right? Besides, it’s for a good cause.”

“Please tell me the others—”

The question was both cut off and answered by the guffawing of three of Cade’s other men. Cillian, Eric, and Sid knocked back a round of beers and jostled for their wallets as they shuffled toward the top of the stairs. One of Seka’s assistants negotiated the bidding war; they all laughed and played along until a price was agreed upon, and then they stuffed cash into the lock box without hesitation.

It’s Cade who felt hesitant.

No.

Protective.

…Of what?

“What’s downstairs?” He asked Dan. Something deep down warned him that the correct word was who.

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A young woman is sold by her boastful father to their king for her supposed magical gift of being able to spin straw into gold. Of course she can’t actually do that, so in her quiet despair she is approached by a mystical being who offers to help her in exchange for increasingly va…

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“But grief is a story, and it is one that demands to be told.”

Review Notice

This book review was originally published on BumbleBooks’ website (now Fae•ble, which has also changed platforms).

I want to say I also submitted it to Midwest Book Review, because I 100% scheduled that to happen, but now that I am writing this notice for Substack…I’m not complet…

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Elena checked the address in the text again.

No, she did get it right.

But how? Seka said the event was at The Solarium Hotel, 7 p.m. and across the street from Luca’s Coffee. Elena frowned as she glanced across that very street where, sure enough, Luca’s was closing up shop for the day.

The building her navigation app pinged just didn’t look like a hotel.…

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“If I am marked to die, let it be in labor that bears meaning.”

Review Notice

While I absolutely plan on buying a copy for myself and (hopefully, eventually) stocking several more in my bookstore, the edition I will be reviewing is the Advance Reader Copy provided to me by the author. I am honored to have been part of the journey and look forward to readi…

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• Tensions build and heat rises after an exhilarating escape

• She starts figuring out…he really, truly, undeniably isn’t…human

The numbers on the pages didn’t mean shit to him, no matter how many times he flipped the leaflet back and forth. “Fine. Do it.”

His Right Hand straightened her shoulders. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. No. Fuck.” Cade ran a hand through his hair and considered pulling it all out. Or using the grip to slam his forehead into the nearest brick wall. “I don’t fucking care. Just do it.”

Seka Derringer pressed her lips together, the only other sign of her disagreement with his decision. The fisted hand on her hip was the first tell. “I told you, you should have sent one of my guys in. Hell, one of yours.”

“And I told you, I don’t delegate personal favors.” He shoved himself away from the table and grabbed his mug for another swig of beer, only to frown when he discovered it’d been replaced by a mug of coffee. “Where’s my porter?”

“Where’s your watch? It’s ten o’clock in the morning!”

Cade considered dumping the lukewarm coffee on her head, but there existed the strong probability she’d just throat punch him with the mug. “Whatever.” He chugged the rest of it and made a mental note to stop by the nearest pub for a shot of whiskey to wash it down. “I have errands to run. Shit to do.” Hearts to shatter.

That coffee wasn’t sitting well in his stomach.

“Does any of this happen to involve a certain Latina goddess?” Seka didn’t wait for his response because she already knew the answer. “I told you once and I’m going to keep saying it until you listen to me: You. Are. Making. A. HUGE. Mistake.”

“It won’t be that bad!” Cade threw his hands up in the air, mindful not to chuck the mug through the front window of the restaurant. Yet. “What makes her different from any of the others?”

“For starters?” Seka gave him a quick once-over and smirked. “No one else ever got you riled like this.”

“You do a perfectly fine job crawling under my skin.”

“That’s just it, though. That’s my job. I’m the very loud and irritating voice that keeps you headed in the direction that gets us what we want.”

Cade glanced around and waited for the underlings to clear more boxes out of the room before he lowered his voice and dipped his head to her. “What happens when I don’t know what I want?”

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• They managed to successfully break into the top secret archives beneath the lake

• So did someone—or rather, something—else

“Elena.”

The cool night air filled her lungs and made tears of relief spring to her eyes. They were out. They made it out.

No thanks to whatever, whoever, the hell that was.

“Here.” She shrugged off her sweater and wrapped it around the astrolabe before thrusting it at the man trying to keep up with her furious pace away from him. “Take it. I did my job. I’m done.”

“Elena.”

She spun around to yell at him, scream at him, maybe even kick him in the shins.

But she didn’t.

She couldn’t.

In the darkness of the quiet lake shore, where they’d managed to slip out of the facility undetected and dodge the security lights of both museums, it was easier to see who Cade really was.

No.

What he really was.

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• He gave her a glimpse into his old life—and where he actually comes from (hint: it’s not Chicago)

• He also gave a glimpse into the reality that he might, maybe, possibly have something resembling a heart. Maybe.

• Their museum heist shifted from “grab it and run” to something a bit more complicated—and buried beneath the lake

Son of a bitch.

He actually did it.

That son of a bitch actually did it.

“I’ll have you know, my mother was a lovely woman.” Cade wrinkled his nose at her but kept his hand firmly on her back to push her further into the dark corridor. “So you can stop muttering such horrible things about her.”

“Sorry.” Elena quickly shook her head. “No, I mean, I was talking about you.” Maybe. She didn’t remember saying anything out loud. To be fair, though, the man had her in a state of semi-shock and awe. Her cognition was a little fried at the moment.

It started with their “casual stroll” out into the night air and down the observatory walkway that connected to the natural history museum’s tiered gardens. Cade followed her lead up to a point, letting her steer their direction but insisting on holding her close to his side. They laughed over meaningless quips and smiled, waved, nodded, et cetera to passersby and outdoor security guards alike.

They were a picture of the perfect downtown couple.

Until Elena spotted the “employees only” signs over a door tucked behind some bushes but definitely leading to the underbelly of the history museum. That was when Cade told her to stay quiet, hold on to him tight, and trust him enough to keep her eyes closed.

She did.

They kept walking.

And they walked right past a group of guards, through the door, and into the first sectional hallway of the museum storage facility.

No one said a word. No alarms went off.

It was like they didn’t even exist.

That’s around the time Elena started muttering to herself. Cade didn’t break his stride, or hers, a mask of determination etched on his face—at least until he scolded her for insulting his mother.

“I just don’t get it,” Elena whispered. She glanced around his arm to see if anyone had spotted them or followed them in. “That guy was, like, three feet away. I could smell his cologne.”

“Dogs with head colds could smell that. Don’t worry about it.”

She moved to pull away from him, unsure of whether it was a good idea to keep walking so attached to this weirdo. Sure, he was sexy and funny and oozed charm when he allowed himself to relax out of “Mob Boss Mode”, but there was just something about him. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on that had some alarm bells tinkling in the back of her mind.

Okay, so they were small alarm bells. Not foghorns, thank goodness.

More the kind that whispered the most ridiculous and insane ideas she shooed out of her brain the second they formed.

“Best stick with me,” he muttered when he felt her pull away. “It’ll be easier to make an escape if we need to.”

“How?”

“Just trust me. Yeah?”

Elena gave him the most skeptical Look she could muster. “Trust. You.”

He pressed his free hand over his chest and feigned a gasp of hurt. “Ouch. You’re making it sound like I’ve done anything at all to break your trust.”

“Oh, you haven’t. It’s just, hmm, let’s see.” She held up a hand to count the points with her fingers. “Organized crime boss, right? Full mafia. Not just a loan shark.”

The firm line of his mouth answered that question.

“Right. Who had God-knows-what done to some guy—”

“A thief.”

“Okay, but you couldn’t call the cops because otherwise you would have. Which means you’re definitely a criminal of some sort. See Item One. Next, there’s the fact that you’re totally okay with stealing an artifact from a museum, breaking into a highly secured facility—”

Cade scoffed as he looked around. “Not that secure.”

“Semantics. It just goes to show you’ve done this before and who knows how many times? Not to mention some of the weird shit you’ve been saying and telling me about that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever unless you’re some crazy person and oh my god, I’m on a museum heist with a crazy person.”

“Need to sit down? Process that for a moment?”

She shot him a glare. “No. What I need is a tranquilizer gun.”

“Oh, calm down.” He nodded at the door they were quickly approaching. “We’re here.”

Before she could shove the metal door open, he tucked her tighter to him and whispered the order for her to close her eyes again. When she didn’t obey right away, he gave her a little shake.

“Hey. I’m serious. Some of my ‘weird shit’ you keep panicking about is more than you can handle.”

Elena’s glare only deepened. “You know what? Fuck you! I can handle—”

He pulled her through the door.

Not like a normal person. Not the way that regular people use door handles or push on handlebars and lean their body weight against the wood or metal slab to enter the next section of the building.

Nope.

Cade pulled her through the door.

The very locked, very secure, very much not open door.

“You’re right,” he said with a proud smirk at her stunned silence. “I have done this before. Many times. It’s a specialty of mine.” He gestured to the open space of the huge bunker they now stood inside. “Not here, though. This is a first for me. You?”

She shook her head. Tottled forward. This time he let her, with a quick pat on her shoulder and a not-so-stifled chuckle as he left her there to go look for the compass.

This was a lot for her to digest. Visually, internally, situationally…the whole…everything. Around her sat potentially millions of artifacts spanning cultures and languages and entire civilizations of hundreds, maybe even thousands of years across the globe. Things the general public had not seen yet or didn’t know existed. Things she was forbidden to see or touch or share oxygen with because she just didn’t have that kind of clearance. No one did.

And standing in the middle of it all, rifling through provenance records and flipping over item tags, was a man who shouldn’t be able to do half the impossible things he’d done right before her very eyes.

“Who are you?”

Cade glanced up from a pottery tag to blink at her. “Me?”

Elena rolled her eyes, threw her hands in the air, and sighed. “No. The other guy I came here with. Yes, you!”

“First of all.”

A mixture of danger and excitement swirled low in her belly with every long stride he took toward her. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes glowed in the low light with a heat she didn’t want to believe was for her. Because it couldn’t be.

“I’m not loving this idea of you coming here, or going anywhere, with some ‘other guy’.” Cade filled her space once more, too close and too overwhelming and too…intoxicating. His voice dropped low, sending shivers through her spine and straight to the ache deep inside her. “Don’t get me wrong, ælfscíene, I have no illusions of exclusivity between us.” He lifted his hand to toy with the ends of her curls that tumbled over her shoulder. “But I think you should know just how much I find myself hating that thought.”

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. “What thought?”

“You.” His face dipped lower. Closer. “With some other guy. Another man. Not me.”

Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Thick. Dry. Needing him. “Why?” She breathed.

“Fuck if I know.”

His lips came so dangerously close to hers. Another inch, another sigh, and they’d be tasting each other exactly the way something inside her begged and pleaded for her to enjoy.

“Second of all…” Cade gazed at her mouth as if he were deciding on whether to go for it or hold back. The fact that he seemed to be debating it made her pulse race. “You’re asking all the wrong questions.”

“What?”

“Exactly.”

Just like before, he quickly stepped away and left her to stew in the heat he created but refused to tamper. “We need to find this thing,” he called over his shoulder. “Any idea where it could be?”

She’d be lucky if she could string two words together.

“Ah! Never mind!” Cade grinned and pointed at a sign. “Maritime! That sounds right.” He waved her over. “Come on. Let’s go. We don’t have all night.”

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